Time and the Field

INTRODUCTION

Time and the Field

Steffen Dalsgaard and Morten Nielsen

The increasing global flows of persons, things, and ideas continue to pose peculiar methodological problems for social scientists doing ethnographic fieldwork. According to several recent studies on the status of ethnographic methodology, the conditions of fieldwork and, implicitly, the constitution of the field itself have been radically transformed by emerging global assemblages that consistently resist being pinned down by spatial scales, such as global-local, urban-rural, center-periphery (Ong and Collier 2005). This transformation is influenced by the emergence of new technologies and intensified processes of exchange and communication that frequently work as a compression of time and space (Harvey 1989) or, conversely, entail their disembedding (Giddens 1990). The gradual expansion of the anthropological discipline has furthermore led to the inclusion of a larger variety of fields (e.g., bureaucratic workplaces, transnational organizations, media-driven networks, diasporas, etc.), which may be constituted by spatio-temporal demarcations differing from those of the small-scale communities (stereo-)typically studied by anthropologists of yore. Faced with the challenge of aligning methodological and analytical perspectives to these shifting milieus, anthropologists have experimented with novel ways of addressing the ethnographic field and its context, for example, as global ‘scapes’ (Appadurai 1990); through the use of ‘multi-sited’ fieldwork (Marcus 1995); and by critically examining the particular location of the fieldworker and his or her relationship to the field (Gupta and Ferguson 1997b). Still, whereas the effects of global processes have been documented by privileging spatial changes and consequently discussing fieldwork as a spatialized practice (e.g., by mapping associations between sites that are locatable, both physically and ideationally), there is a need to understand as well the temporal aspects of these processes. Based on the hypothesis that ‘the field’ might be understood not solely as a spatial concept but equally as a temporal one, the goal of this volume is to explore how particular ‘sites’ contain and actualize different social times and temporalities while also reflecting on the methodological and analytical perspectives by which they can be approached.

Notes for this section begin on page 15.

Seeing discrete areas of social life as amalgamations of temporal directions, time-scales, and time-cycles indicates that there might be both analytical and methodological purchase to exploring fields as temporal phenomena. The instantaneous contacts and re-entries to the field made possible through modern media make it apparent that the separation of ‘field’ and ‘home’ is being challenged, not just as a spatial configuration, but, equally important, as a temporal one. The new technologies of communication and travel have enforced a form of ‘coevalness’ (cf. Fabian 1983) onto the relationship between anthropology and the Other, which, on the one hand, gives access to a wider range of knowledge formations and fields, but, on the other, also potentially generates a sense of discomfort because the field is ever-present. For example, the anthropologist can receive text messages from informants now covered by mobile phone networks, while the Internet enables the anthropologist to befriend informants on Facebook, follow them on Twitter, or exchange material with them on YouTube—even as a direct part of the fieldwork process, where researcher and informant engage in reciprocal transactions of granting access to each other’s social worlds (see Boellstorff 2008; Wulff 2002).

Considering that fieldwork is fundamentally about identifying spaces and times, which will enable the ethnographer to explore in detail the initially posed research questions, it is striking that so little has been written about the field as a temporally defined phenomenon. Our aim is therefore twofold. Firstly, building on a critical examination of recent (postmodern) critiques of fieldwork practice, we wish to explore the temporal properties of the field (understood as both an analytical and ethnographic concept). Secondly, if, as we argue, there is a lack of research on the temporal aspects of what constitutes the field, we need to clarify in greater detail how discrete temporalities can be studied and represented via ethnographic accounts (James and Mills 2005: 1). What scales of comparison may be employed to identify the production of time in various socio-cultural environments? And how do we account for the qualities ascribed to different dimensions of time—its rhythms, durations, episodes, and temporal ruptures? Serendipity, for instance, heralded as a key ingredient in the encounter with the Other, entails the surprise resulting from the breakdown of anticipation and the change of what one had thought to be ‘one site’. In the moment of such surprise discovery, otherwise clear-cut distinctions between temporal and spatial dimensions of the field are momentarily dissolved as new insights make hitherto detached elements come together, often in paradoxical or even counter-intuitive assemblages of, say, ideas, occurrences, and things. Our argument is consequently that central aspects of doing fieldwork are better accounted for by taking the field to be a processual configuration through which time and space continuously interweave to chart out new analytical terrains.

The Idealized Time of the Field

According to the well-rehearsed Malinowskian canon, fieldwork is a period in a sequence of doing research where the ethnographer is spatially separated from home. Ideally, it is done after formulating a research problem and prior to ‘writing up’ data in a coherent textual representation (Gupta and Ferguson 1997a: 12). And, as has consistently been emphasized, it takes a lot of time. Since the birth of the discipline, the length of the fieldwork period has constituted a central albeit much contested factor for determining the quality of collected ethnographic data. More than four decades ago, Paul Radin ([1933] 1966: 178–179; see also Gupta and Ferguson 1997a: 45) criticized Margaret Mead for claiming deep cultural understanding based on less than one year spent in the field. Even five years, Radin thought, could give only superficial knowledge. Today, this notion of knowledge based on extensive fieldwork is almost impossible to achieve unless one is an indigenous or ‘native’ anthropologist having lived a lifetime as a cultural ‘insider’. To be sure, long-term and longitudinal qualitative studies that include extensive periods spent in the field were (and still are) regarded as strongly promoting the fieldworker’s chances of serendipitous findings or surprises, which will supposedly destabilize the researcher’s prior understandings and generate new insights.

Recently, the debate on the appropriate length of fieldwork has also focused on the relationship between ethnographic knowledge production and the increasing number of ‘outside’ constraints that significantly affect the collection of data. Firstly, research time might be severely constricted due to funding constraints and fewer funding agencies, demands on degree programs and the gradual limitation on students’ final fieldwork before writing up their dissertations, increasing pressure to identify ‘relevant’ (read ‘practically useful’) data, and growing bureaucratic obligations to account for one’s research time (Marcus and Okely 2007). Secondly, anthropologists often find themselves challenged by the time it takes to gather sufficient data to formulate ethnographically valid arguments. In a nutshell, the length of fieldwork appears to be a paradox arising from the tension between demands for the ‘timely’ relevance of an ethnographically informed anthropological analysis and the necessary ‘slowness’ and ‘belatedness’ of its creation (e.g., Rabinow et al. 2008; see also Marcus, this volume).

Still, rather than automatically discounting someone for not having endured a prolonged period of ongoing fieldwork and thus not living up to the tacit standard of the discipline, should we not assess the person’s data in relation to the problem that he or she set out to answer (Faubion 2009: 163)? Radin’s demand for protracted immersion and a lifetime of study is admirable, but it stipulates a number of requirements that may be impossible to align with the practicalities of fieldwork. Firstly, Radin knew very well that the ideal of a holistic study in itself is problematic. Even if given an infinite amount of time, it is less than likely that all significant data will be collected, let alone perceived as such. Secondly, and this is the cue that we want to pursue, the demand for lifelong immersion only superficially takes into account the discrete temporalities that constitute and are constituted by fieldwork. To take a few examples, analytical insights tend to erupt through a continuous oscillation between (temporal as much as physical) approximation to and distance from one’s informants and research sites, so periodic absence from the field is logically as necessary as one’s presence (see Whyte, this volume). Conversely, in contrast to Radin’s days, when the field was generally a faraway place that was difficult to reach, it is today possible to be continuously in contact with one’s informants and thus never to leave entirely (see Wulff 2002). The pressure to deliver ‘on time’ is not a new thing to researchers. As demonstrated by several of the chapters in this collection (e.g., those by Otto, Sjørslev, and Whyte), negotiating time schedules and lengths of stay as part of one’s fieldwork planning is equally crucial to finding out where to go. In addition, not just the possibilities of fieldwork, but also the relationships that define it, change as time passes (see Foster et al. 1979; Howell and Talle 2011; Kemper and Royce 2002).

If ethnographic fieldwork constitutes a recursive temporal oscillation between different sites that are spatial but also inherently conceptual (pace Strathern 1990; see also Holbraad 2008), a corollary must be that the field contains similar conceptual properties. What constitutes the field emerges in and through the immediate moments of surprise discovery, when otherwise detached elements come together in discrete assemblages of concepts, persons, things, and sites that seem to chart a relatively coherent configuration through their confluences. Although recent elaborations of the field do take seriously the need to pursue the scales of differentiation of one’s interlocutors (cf. Marcus 2006: 115; see also Candea 2007), such endeavors might end up merely as bounding spatial sites rather than considering temporal properties. Paradoxically, the reliance upon spatial tropes in the distantiation of multi-sited ethnographies from the earlier holistic ideals potentially seems to have licensed these as ‘thin’ rather than ‘thick’ descriptions, because more sites have had to be fitted into the same conceptual frame (see Hage 2005; Marcus 2006).

Spatial Tropes …

Not least as a methodological after-effect of the ‘writing culture’ debate in the 1980s, several works have critically examined and elaborated upon the conceptual tropes buttressing the field (Candea 2007; Clifford 1997; Coleman and Collins 2006; Gupta and Ferguson 1997b; Olwig and Hastrup 1997), but it remains that the field has generally been discussed as a spatial configuration, and doing fieldwork has been addressed as a question of choosing between going ‘there’ or staying ‘at home’ (Clifford 1997). Consequently, the field is ‘somewhere’—a location, a site, a place, or a space where the ethnographer is situated physically.

In the introduction to their edited volume Anthropological Locations, Akhil Gupta and James Ferguson (1997a: 2; emphasis added) ask: "But what of ‘the field’ itself, the place where the distinctive work of ‘fieldwork’ may be done, that taken-for-granted space in which an ‘Other’ culture or society lies waiting to be observed and written? This mysterious space—not the ‘what’ of anthropology but the ‘where’—has been left to common sense." Gupta and Ferguson express doubts about traditional ethnographic methods and concepts and whether they can address the problems of a constantly shifting globalized and post-colonial world with mobile populations. Considering that the field is closer, with people increasingly able to be interconnected and globalized, Gupta and Ferguson ask about the ways that conceptualizations and ideas of fieldwork and ethnographic methods can be adapted to this interrelatedness (ibid.: 4). Some fields (the exotic and faraway) have long enjoyed a privileged recognition because of their spatial distance to the researcher’s (frequently) Euro-American location; however, fieldwork practices and methodologies with less emphasis on distance have more recently gained ground. While distance is no longer (and should no longer be) a prerequisite for doing ‘good ethnography’, Gupta and Ferguson emphasize that location is still crucial (ibid.: 5). They want to rethink fieldwork praxis accordingly by shifting focus from spatial sites and localities to ‘political locations’. What constitutes a field location will depend on the overall objective of one’s research and the subsequent political practice and engagement. From Gupta and Ferguson’s perspective, then, the field emerges through the ‘situated interventions’ made necessary by the particular project. Rather than a bounded place with a distinct ‘culture’, it therefore needs to be understood as a series of shifting (spatial) locations (ibid.: 35, 38). By thus focusing on the interconnections between inherently heterogeneous sites, Gupta and Ferguson have moved toward a deeper understanding of the composite character of social phenomena, while also calling for new methodological approaches to parallel these insights. Strikingly, though, while they acknowledge the importance of time in the structuration of fieldwork practices, they fail to move beyond the primacy of spatiality, evidenced by the predominant usage of space-oriented tropes, such as locations, and by an emphasis on ‘somewhere’ rather than ‘sometime’ (ibid.: 35).

In recent years, one of the most significant contributions to the discussion of the field and fieldwork in a globalized environment is the notion of ‘multi-sited ethnography’ as proposed by George Marcus. Similar to Gupta and Ferguson, Marcus (1995: 95) argues that ethnographic research is moving away from its conventional single-site location, contextualized by macro-constructions of a larger social order … to multiple sites of observation and participation that cross-cut dichotomies such as the ‘local’ and the ‘global’, the ‘lifeworld’ and the ‘system.’ This shift has been necessitated by the dissolution and fragmentation of the world system, which is paralleled by the emergence of new forms of socio-economic power (ibid.: 98). According to Marcus, ethnography may identify these interweaving and mutually contingent processes by following strategically selected entities (ideas, metaphors, persons, objects, stories, biographies) across multiple settings and thereby outline a unique multi-sited system, which simultaneously operates as ‘figure’ and ‘ground’.

We nevertheless argue that the spatiality of a field remains dominant when associations are made only between analytically separate settings that are exterior to each other. Although a unique social configuration may be discerned by connecting discontinuous sites and settings, this says little about their potential temporal interlinkages, such as when a temporal site also contains traces of other temporalities.¹ Indeed, as argued by Marilyn Strathern (1999: 163), multi-sited ethnography may reveal the contingency of what began as initial identity—the tracing both defines and queries the chain of associations. It is consequently by emphasizing a spatial connectivity that a multi-sited approach may come to predetermine what is held together through the different sites. In contrast, Strathern reasons that what the locations … have in common has not necessarily happened yet (ibid.). As demonstrated by Pedersen and Nielsen’s contribution to this volume, what is shared by an assemblage of sites may be a reserve of potentialities that have not yet been realized as aims or intentionalities. By focusing on a momentary ‘hunch’ about what was at stake in a given situation during a field trip, Pedersen and Nielsen examine how different moments and analytical ideas interlink without the ethnographer knowing exactly what those connections might be. What stitched past, present, and future together in that particular situation was nothing other than the almost imperceptible sensation that something significant was taking place. Hence, the advantages of multi-sited ethnography notwithstanding, unstable associations between potentialities in the present and their (possible) future realizations, such as those crystallized through a momentary hunch, remain analytically invisible unless attention is given to the temporal oscillations and modulations constituting the field. What is suggested by Strathern and elaborated upon in several of the contributions to this book is that the sum of information that is produced by connecting different sites, things, and ideas cannot be understood merely as a quantifiable aggregation of entities. The kinds of connectivities that might not ‘have happened yet’, such as hunches or surprise discoveries, assert their effects by charting momentary conceptual and spatial grounds upon which to figure ethnographic analyses.

In contrast to dominant spatial conceptualizations in anthropology—such as those suggested by multi-sited ethnography, where social life seems to be played out in and through a network of identifiable sites—we suggest that the field, as a confluence of different times and temporalities, emerges rather as a dynamic force of becoming that shifts in intensity and clarity, depending on the ethnographer’s immediate position and immersion. An exemplar of multi-sited research often referred to by Marcus (2006; see also this volume) is Kim Fortun’s (2001) study of the long aftermath of disasters in Bhopal. Interestingly, although Fortun explicitly attempts to break with the single-site location, the ethnography requires a constant reference to the singular moment of the disaster invoked by informants as a constant ‘presence’ through its effects. Although not locatable as a single spatial entity, the Bhopal disaster clearly operates as a dominant temporal site that orientates both informants and ethnographer.

… and Ethnographic Temporalities

Despite the lack of anthropological attention to the temporal aspects of delimiting the field, time has been an important aspect of a wide range of anthropological studies, from the Manchester School’s specific focus on process and transformation (Gluckman [1940] 1958; Mitchell 1956; Turner 1957) to the praxis studies a few decades later (Bourdieu 1977; de Certeau 1984) and the more recent historical emphasis on traditions and historicity (Hirsch and Stewart 2005; Hobsbawm and Ranger 1983; Keesing and Tonkinson 1982; Otto and Pedersen 2005). In this regard, it is worth considering the recognition of the temporal contextualization of the Other (e.g., Fabian 1983). To take but one example, the gradual move from a structuralist approach toward increased attention to praxis and change is accompanied by a general recognition of the temporal dimensions of social life. Based on the latter perspective, any social configuration emerges from a series of overlapping, reciprocal exchanges and encounters and from associations of varying durability. These erupt and appear both over and in time, and whether they are delineated as objects of study or as ‘context’ (i.e., as figure or ground), such processes and connections are intimately related to people’s orientations toward pasts or futures, for instance, as inscribed in ideologies of modernism or traditionalism (Otto, this volume), or when felt as hope or despair (A. Dalsgaard and Frederiksen, this volume).

A series of important contributions has documented the emergence of subjective temporal understandings from agents’ positioned practices (Bourdieu 2000; Jackson 2002), ritual and cosmological times (Evans-Pritchard 1940; Geertz 1973; Robbins 2007), space and time (Corsín Jiménez 2003; Gell 1992; Ingold 2000; Munn 1986), the relation between crisis and temporal uprootedness (Game 1997; Vigh 2007), personhood as temporal compositions (Maurer and Schwab 2006), and the close linkages between materiality or technology and perceptions of time (Gell 1998; Küchler 2002). Furthermore, recent ethnographic studies have explored the particular ways that the future is envisioned and enacted upon, for example, in relation to economics (Guyer 2007; Maurer 2002), as imagined ‘hinterlands’ (Crapanzano 2004), or as perspectives from which to imagine the present (Miyazaki 2004; Nielsen 2008, 2011, 2014; Pedersen 2012). Finally, since the heyday of the Manchester School, the study of social situations and events has maintained a prominent status within anthropology (Burawoy 1998; Evens and Handelman 2006; see also Sahlins 1991; Strathern 1990). The particular study of events can even be seen in recent works that seek to question a one-sided emphasis on time as linearity (Das 2007; Hodges 2008). In these instances, it is by delimiting the fieldwork setting that a time of the study is established. Analytically, the detailed analysis of situations and events invariably delimits epochs, periods, durations, and their temporal extensions toward pasts and futures (cf. Gupta and Ferguson 1997a: 2).

In sum, whereas a shift toward increasing analytical attention toward time can be discerned, its relation to the field has generally been absent in anthropological debates until recently. What is at stake, then, is a need to acknowledge the temporal properties of the field, both in relation to concrete ethnographic work and as anthropological representation.

Beyond the Spatial Trope

As Bruce Kapferer (2006: 125) tells us, ethnographic research is based on actual social interactions, encounters, situations, and events that are effectively moments of social life in the very process of formation. Stretched out between what was and that which will be, these moments (or ‘temporal sites’, in our terms) include surprise discoveries and hunches as mentioned above, which enable the ethnographer to engage with wider realities and thereby chart viable analytical terrains.² In a similar vein, many of the contributions in this collection (S. Dalsgaard, Lutz, Pedersen and Nielsen, Sjørslev) make clear that irrespective of the parameters with which we choose to delimit a given field, it has fundamental temporal properties that need to be examined ipso facto and not only by reference to a spatial trope. Identifying a set of temporal properties is, firstly, a matter of simply ‘being present’ for whatever period is necessary in order to establish a dynamic and mutually conditioned relationship between the questions we ask of our material and the concrete ethnographic circumstances of their problematization. Secondly, and this follows from the first point, it is equally a matter of identifying the precise juncture at which new insights are constructed from the relationship between research questions and ethnographic data. According to Strathern (1999: 6), such a juncture may fruitfully be understood as an ethnographic moment where the already known is transcended by establishing new associations between the understood (what is analysed at the moment of observation) and the need to understand (what is observed at the moment of analysis). What is emphasized, however, is the volatility of the relationship established between question and answer. As Strathern (1991: xxii) argues: [I]nsofar as an answer generates new material or insights, then it necessarily draws on knowledge not available to the questioner … This excess may well generate new questions that make the old ones uninteresting … Each question in conjuncture with its answer, or each position from which a new position is created, in turn becomes a position that one leaves behind.

As more and more information is gathered, research questions invariably undergo a process of analytical displacement. It is therefore the researcher’s immersion in an ethnographic field that comes to destabilize the premises that initially anchored the study. What is particularly interesting in relation to the present discussion, then, is the fact that the parameters that define the field undergo gradual transformations. Different aspects (both temporal and spatial) become relevant as more is learned about social life in a local environment. Particular social configurations might assert themselves in radically new ways, for example, by shifting the analytic scale from economics to aesthetics and thereby also changing its analytically defined properties. In other words, if differentiation and change are integral to the field, the concept invariably loses its spatial anchorage. Here we might recall how multi-sited fields in Marcus’s (1995) outline emerge by tracing a social phenomenon that traverses a number of connected sites or locations. Taking into account the internal differentiations of individual sites, it becomes untenable to